A/N: Although I doubt anyone cares, this is not about "Barry", this is about a different man ^-^

My American

Ambling curiously, remarkingThe Tone of your Voice is as lovelyAs your salt-and-pepper hair…Young eyesPeering of experience, and even if it was so!The American-Seeming Beauty…

~ I have to cease this comparison, tho' I fear I never will ~

The twisted thistleAnd trodden sand built into stoneTile cracked under theWeight of not knowingOr, yet, his old-and-youngPrompting. Knowing. We had beenWandering for some time,Then, theCattle trails of Kansas andThe uprooted Prairie grassesParting way, if not: weHad the Misfortune to be whelpedSans tradition,Yet the whooping West andYou, sun-faded violetAnd someConstant eyes.

Beneath me the floor isSplit into halves and theClover is sorted thru' byChattering sparrows, where theSun is now. You, regardlessOf any Western Attire, of any Past,Affirm that the lack ofRefinement Can be lovely asWell.

Ambling happily towardsYou, a NightIn Dodge:

~ My American ~

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